


The Flower Boy and the Prom Prince

by louisovermyknee



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - High School, Cinderella Elements, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Style, First Kiss, Insecure Louis, Louis Tomlinson as Cinderella, Louis in Glasses, M/M, Male Cinderella, Nerd Louis, Popular Harry, Prince Harry Styles, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisovermyknee/pseuds/louisovermyknee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Very well then; Louis, I can’t just stand here while you sniff up your runny nose and pout. I want you to go to prom tonight—not for me—for yourself.”</p><p>“How could you do that? I have the night shift! What? Do you think you’re a-”</p><p>“A Fairy Godmother?” Claire stated abruptly, “Oh course not! Don’t be silly. I’m a manager. You said so yourself! And I can be a Fairy Godmanager if I want to.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Louis POV**

            My job as an attendant at the local flower shop had really gotten to me in more ways than one. I had successfully sneezed over the never-ending fields of spring perennials than I could count. My allergies were getting to me, and I still considered myself lucky to have a job at my age. I migrated from the display case to the rack of columbines that were to be up for sale the following day.

            The flower shop manager Claire entered the room. She was tall, even in her work shoes. Her layered brown hair came down to her collarbones. The ends sat just on the brim of her blazer. She carried a clipboard. Sometimes, I half expected she was checking the stock. Other times, I thought it was an accessory to her status. Upon hearing me letting out a horrific sneeze and a sniffle, she trotted over to me.

“Slow night,” Claire commented.

            “Yeah,” I responded blankly; “Yeah.”

In order to avoid the usual awkward silence between manager and worker, Claire brought up a question; “Louis, what grade are you in?”

            “Twelve,” I answered, feeling another sneeze coming on. I covered my mouth in courtesy.

            “Bless you,” Claire retorted.

            It had suddenly gotten quiet. I was unaware of where this conversation was going. To fluff up the moment, I switched my weight over to the honeysuckles.

            “So, you’re eighteen?” Claire returned. Her voice felt like a penny dropping in an empty hall.

            “Yep,” I nodded.

            “Hang on,” Claire looked to me with curiosity; “Isn’t tonight senior prom?”

            I knew it was coming. I knew it was coming from a mile away.

“Don’t remind me.”

            “What are you saying?”

            I rubbed my nostrils, looking at her; “I don’t want to talk about it.”

            I decided it was the appropriate moment to walk away. I began to tend to the asylums that were stacked on a long table for display. My manager was smart, though. She would never let a question go, even if you asked her to. She had followed me into the other room.

            “Louis,” she approached me in a gentle manner.

            “What?”

            “Did you want to go?”

            “Eehhh,” I mumbled out my answer; “No … er … yes, but no.”

            “Indecisive?”

            “Sure.”

Claire looked down. She began flipping through the paper of her clip board for a moment. I left her alone manage whatever her business was supposed to be, but she continued to address me.

“You haven’t asked for a night off since December. Why don’t you give yourself a break?”

I sneezed again.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks,” I sniffed it up; “I don’t know. Why should I spend the night at a place where I don’t know anybody?”

“Who says you don’t know anybody?”

“Me, Claire; It sucks,” I was almost afraid to admit it; “I have no friends.”

“That’s not true—you’ve got me.”

“You’re the manager,” I corrected her.

She bounced back, “So?”

“Well, what do you expect? Me galloping off into the night like a broke newcomer with an offset vision?”

Claire shrugged, but showed her dimples; “It could happen.”

I set the wisteria down; “Come off it. I’ve got no luck. Even if I wanted to go, I can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Claire spoke calmly in spite of my pitiful responses; “But why’s that?”

“I’m here; with you; in a flower shop on the other side of town;” I adjusted my glasses so I could rub the itch out of my eyes.

“Did you buy a ticket?”

I was embarrassed; “Yes, bu-”

“And that’s why you’re not going?”

The room became silent again. I stared into her eyes that were perched with brown with a tint of green. All of a sudden, Claire had had enough of it.

“Very well then; Louis, I can’t just stand here while you sniff up your runny nose and pout. I want you to go to prom tonight—not for me—for yourself.”

“How could you do that? I have the night shift! What? Do you think you’re a-”

“A Fairy Godmother?” Claire stated abruptly, “Oh course not! Don’t be silly. I’m a manager. You said so yourself! And I can be a Fairy Godmanager if I want to.”

“Oh please,” I felt like giving myself a face palm for emphasis, but I had realized that it would hurt her feelings. Instead, I stated, “That’s very nice of you, but look at me! Do you think I have enough money for a tux when I’ve saving up for uni?”

That’s when Claire did something funny. Her hand had slipped back to her pocket and she pulled out what looked to be a wallet. Her fingers pricked at a small rectangular disc of plastic. After pulling it out, she whisked it away from her. I watched it fall on the ground.

“Oops.”

I was confused, “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she perked herself from side to side and pointed to the object below. “Someone just lost their visa card!” She gasped in a breath, “How tragic!” Swooning, Claire was having fun with this; “Oh, I wonder what would happen if someone got a hold of it when there’s a department store right down the road.”

She winked. I got the picture.

Kneeling down, I suddenly pointed out a very important tactic to a night off on the job; “What about the boss?” I asked.

“I’ll take care of that later, Louis. Right now, go and have fun. No curfew, of course.”

I giggled. To think I had to get back to work by the stroke of twelve would have really made this a Cinderlouis story. At first, I didn’t know what to say. Then, I settled for the classic.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, where did I put that stash of hydrangeas?”

**.           .           .**

I had successfully gained up the courage to follow my Fairy Godmanager’s orders. The plan was quite simple, really. Buy a tuxedo. Go to the prom. Have a good time—just return the visa. All had gone smoothly as I hit the clearance racks at the mall. I had managed to find myself a suitable look without the outrageous pricing. The tie I had purchased was black to match the jacket and pants. My horse and carriage had gone modern. I was already given the advantage of my mother’s highlander. I was just glad I didn’t have to handle any mice on my drive home.

Upon my arrival, I informed my family that I was going to be gone for the night. My mother nearly fainted when I told her I was going to prom. There was no doubt that I was going to be showered in flashing photography lights once I had changed into the outfit I bibbidi-bobbidi-bought. I managed to use gel to swish my hair out of my face. Pulling it back, I got a look of a whole different persona in the mirror. It felt strange, as if something was off. Then the frame around my sight became obvious. I sighed before looking for what I hadn’t used in a long time.

My prescription contacts were still usable as I had a freshly new stack. It took a long while to insert the damn things into my eye. The solution stung. My victory made it all worthwhile. Looking in the mirror, I just couldn’t help but stare.

 _Look at you_ , I told myself; _from pauper to prince_.

I shrugged it off. I was kidding myself without much effort.

Before heading out for a night at the school ball, I had to make one last stop. I drove to the flower shop one last time to return the visa card back to its owner. My allergies staggered only for a moment. My Fairy Godmanager came to meet me, this time without her clipboard. She was automatically impressed on what I had purchased from her magical donation.

“I came to give this back to you,” I told her; “You rock, Claire.”

“Don’t mention it,” she smiled, slipping the piece of plastic into her back pocket.

“Time to go,” I stated, ready to dash out the door and into the night of a fairytale.

Claire stopped me; “Oh, Louis! Don’t forget this!”

I swirled around to find that she had one more thing up her sleeve. From behind her back, she brought out what was previously hidden from my sight. A small collection of periwinkle and white carnations were wired together with tape. My eyes boggled. Even I didn’t think to have a flower pin for my tuxedo. Claire strode over to me, and proudly began to pin the corsage to my breast pocket.

I couldn’t help but giggle; “Do you happen to have a magic wand I don’t know about?”

“No,” my Fairy Godmanager laughed; “This is just something I whipped up—though I wish I had a pair of wings on hand.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to. Good luck, Louis!”


	2. Two

After parking the highlander with great attempt, I had set forth one foot in front of the other to claim the night of my high school prom. The parking lot was a narrow, dimly lit setting. I half-expected a gang of paparazzi to show up. The clouds above me gathered up to hide the night sky. The late rush of the highway could be heard from the distance. The end of my long walk was equipped with the gleaming shine of the banquet hall. The closer I got, the muffled beats of the DJ became clearer to me. I had suspected that everyone had already eaten their evening meal. I didn’t mind. After all, how far can you go with overpriced Italian?

When I reached the main door, I let out a long breath. _This is it._

No one greeted me to verify my ticket. At first glance, I could see that the dining hall was an empty sea of dirtied napkins and dishware. As for the banquet itself, the decorations accessorized the theme of the dance. The people that gossiped and danced were dressed appropriately for the occasion. Every lady was protected below the waist with a sum of nearly fifty-thousand yards of tulle and taffeta. The men had fitted themselves in their own share of tuxedos. The room itself was buzzing with the stench of meatball marinara, chicken alfredo, and the occasional Channel Bleu or Christian Dior Hypnotic Poison.

I had lingered my way through the scene and had come upon a horrific realization. I was alone. I was embarrassed. The chances of me being red in the face were the same as the odds of finding a star in the night sky. It was hopeless. For a second, I attempted to convince myself that my mind was just playing tricks on me.

 _Hey, come on;_ I told myself, _you made Claire a promise_. _You did not drive yourself all the way across town to wipe out at ground zero, did you?_

Instead of lying to myself, I headed for the dancefloor. As a wallflower, which persisted rather longer than I had liked to be, I became a professional at bobbing my head up and down as the rhythm of the music pumped through the walls. I could feel the tones in my heart and I smelled sweat. Hooped petticoats and slender figures collided with each other in a massive crowd of dancers. I watched a rather fluffy persona struggle with her strapless dress. Meanwhile, a whiner scolded her beloved for stomping on her new pumps. In another direction, a boy was searching for his long-lost friend, or date, or a reason to be there.

Then I asked myself why I was there. My night full of hopes and dreams had halted at a dead end. I was wasting my time, clearly. I convinced myself that I was in need of fresh air just before a peppy announcer grabbed the microphone from the D.J.’s control. Attaching the fragments of what I could hear, they were ready to pronounce the prom prince and princess. I did not care. I wouldn’t have been crowned either way.

Not quite so unexpected, a few lads were sneaking a cigarette outside the banquet hall. I didn’t join them, but they shot me a judging look when I stepped outside. I wasn’t in the mood to stare back. I did not feel like fighting for myself at that moment. In fact, for the most part, I did not feel like being there. I knew I was given a chance out of luck, but that did not help my case as I watched the dark setting outside of prom. The sun had set, and so did my confidence.

With a frown on my face, I was contemplating on going home. I shook my head. If there were any more rays of hope, I was not necessarily in the mood to receive any luck. I would have prayed to the heavens to summon my fairy godmanager for one more trick up her sleeve, but my subconscious did not suggest that there was any magic in the air.

A tall persona shuffled through the door. The first thing I noticed was his cleanly polished shoes. Next were his trousers, submerged in a grey I’d half-expect to see at a funeral. The senior wore no tie to match his white shirt. On his head, he wore a crown. No one had to guess why.

“And there’s the king himself,” one lad cocked.

His friends roared in a cluster of laughter. I watched the quiet prince show a faint smile. Out of instinct, I distinguished that he was either a part of the joke, or was the joke himself. The crowd of lads scratched their cigarettes across the pavement.

One boy spat, “Yeah, have fun with Sarah.”

The crowned curly-haired mister stepped out of the way as the crowd waivered into the hall; “Yeah, thanks.”

The music that blasted out suddenly became muffled again as the door swung shut.

Looking down, the boy murmured; “Her name is Cierra.”

“What?” I inched forward, trying to depict what he was saying.

“Nothing,” he scratched his elbow; “Nothing important.”

“Oh,” I got a fair look at the silver crown that sat on his head. No doubt it was made of plastic for the sake of the school’s low budget.

I had to intervene. “So, you’re prom prince?”

“Typical, right?”

The boy pulled the crown off his head. He grimaced at the damned thing like it was an unnecessary part of an essay that should have been deleted long ago. He would have thrown it to the ground had it not been for his temperament.

“That must be something,” I commented.

 “Oh, tha-” The dark-haired boy stopped.

His eyes squinted slightly in the night. I was about to ask him what was wrong until he opened his mouth.

“Wait a minute,” he took notice; “Louis?”

I was shocked. My state of invisibility was slipping away before me. I did not think it would be due to the sight of a prince I’ve never seen before.

All I could reply was, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” he shook his bang out of his face; “I just didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Neither did I.”

The fact that I was given the slightest attention had made me even more uncomfortable by the fact that he already knew my name. As gently as possible I went to itch my eye.

“Are you crying or something?” He nudged.

“No, just my contacts.”

“Oh, right.”

The night became silent. The first few seconds slipped away, resulting in an awkward situation. My intentions were to fill in the missing gaps.

I coughed, “I don’t want to be here.”

“Really? Why?”

It took me a split second to shed away the thought of telling a popular stranger that a fairy godmanager had helped me along the way. Instead, I settled for the boring and bland.

“I’m bored. I’ve got nothing better to do. I don’t even know why I came here. My manager just gave me the night off on a whim.”

“Lucky. I had to fight my way to get here.”

“What?”

“I mean …” the prince let out a huff of air. Scrunching his nose, he tried to find an explanation; “My girlfriend. Or ‘girlfriend’, I guess. She wanted to go. So I went with her. And really, I’m not in the mood to have some stupid jewels and glitter in my hair.”

I couldn’t help but snicker; “Hey, at least you didn’t waste your money like I did.”

“I’ve done that,” in a flash, he became irritated; “I don’t want to be here no more than you do. This tux itches, and I can’t stand to be in the same room as a bitch.”

“Why, what happened?”

“She left me.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”

It became quiet again, but anticipation murdered his intentions of balling it up inside.

“Cierra. She’s just mad she wasn’t crowned prom princess. So I’m stuck here for the rest of the night.”

“You don’t have to be,” I shook my head; “To be honest, I’m stuck here too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Harry?” The door to the banquet hall swung open as a senior stepped outside. By height, he looked to be around our age, but his face generally implied he was a baby.

“Yeah?” The prom prince turned to meet his subject.

“The lads and I wanted to camp down by the creak for the night. Would you want to come with us?”

The boy did not answer. Instead, he rotated his head to me; “What do you say?”

_I’d have to ask my mother but yes I would!_

“Yeah,” I responded to the spark of hope; “Sure, I’d come with you guys.”

“Nice,” his friend seeped back indoors.

“Cool,” the prince declared, but then frowned. “It’s just that I don’t have a car.”

“You don’t?” My eyebrow rose skyward.

“No, my date drove us;” the prom prince was embarrassed.

I took pity on the boy; “Hakuna Matata. I’ve got a highlander.”

“Oh, so you’re not stuck here after all.”

“Oh, hush.”


	3. Three

One phone call in the bathroom later, I was permitted to spend the rest of prom night with the poor forgotten prince. I simply told my mother that I felt as if I had to go and earn myself what it was worth. So I did. As I intended to do as instructed, which was to play it safe for the night, I introduced the prom prince to what was considered my horse and carriage. Harry paid no thought to the fact that it was a mom car. All he said was a thank you for going through the trouble of driving down to the creek.

Once there, we were greeted with a short line of cars. A radio was playing from the one with their headlights blazing. The car itself was a red vulva. It was shaking to and fro like a jittering station. Harry, removing his coat, paid no attention to it. I just hoped they were using protection. I was able to meet some of Harry’s friends; most of them were the ones I’ve seen at the banquet hall through the cracks of the door. Gradually, I was becoming my own confident self which I had previously lacked.

Soon, the dates spread to their own special sections of the park. Some brought out blankets and were quietly cuddling to themselves. Others were settling in on their phones, while the rest were snoozing away in their vehicles. As for Harry and I, we were debating on how to spend the night.

“Tired at all?” I suggested.

“Not at all.”

It became quiet as I watched him lean against the side door. With his shirt untucked and his necktie loose, I took a warm liking to the moment despite the awkwardness. A part of me had the sudden urge to move to the front of my car. Obeying the temptation, I observed the hood of the highlander. Summertime memories were then swimming through my mind as I remembered the wonderful benefits of being a kid again. When you are small in size and low in weight, sitting on the hood of the car is an easy task. This got me wondering. I swept to the side of the vehicle to hoist my foot up and on top of the tire. My hands reached for the front. Harry watched in confusion.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“You’ll see.”

Before I knew it I was splurged across the windshield. Straightening myself out, I examined my position. My bum rested a few centimeters before the wipers. My legs curved with the angle of the hood. I was thankful enough that I wasn’t dead. It was a perfect nostalgic moment, but I was missing something.

            “Want to join me?” I glanced over to the prom prince.

            With a subtle nod, he followed along. I could tell that he was up for the small adventure, but not for the minor slip. It took him a little more work for him to not fall off the side. I was happy to help him balance himself by offering a hand. He gladly took it without question. Momentarily, we were faced with more quiet yet beautiful moments.

Above us, the scent of an English forest hung in the air. Down yonder, the creek could be heard with the faint sound of splashing against the rocks. The sky was before us like a broad dark canvas. The tall pine trees reached for the sky and pricked the stars with their forms. Constellations could be seen if you looked hard enough. My astrology class did not come to me as a mighty benefactor, but the remembrance of the classroom filled with posters of space still hung with me.

            By the look of Harry, however, it looked as if he took a great liking to the subject for he was the first to point out the shining stream of light flying above the atmosphere. With his finger pointed in the direction, I was able to catch only a fragment of a second of the astronomical phenomenon. It was gone as quick as it came. I was curious about the prom prince.

I pondered; “Did you make a wish?”

The peck on my cheek answered the question. Within that millisecond, nearly a thousand of emotions rushed through me. Everything from _vile and disgusting_ to _fantastic and wonderful_ was the reactions I experienced. All joking aside, Cierra was for sure just a subtle memory at this point. Harry’s head trudged back, nearly regretting what he did. I looked to him. He hid his face.

Blushing, the prom prince declared; “Yeah, I did.”

I felt like laughing, but that would draw attention. I felt like keeping quiet, but that would result in yet another awkward silence. To be honest, I was tired of both. So I went against the morals while my hand shot for Harry’s hands. Gently slipping them away, I brought myself forward to return the favor. My lips touched skin and the taste sat between us. Not any level of magic could describe this frame of time. With him and me sprawled atop of my car, life never felt better.

I released and whispered with a chuckle; “Yeah, prom prince.”

His red cheeks faded with the darkness; “Whatever, flower boy.”

“OK, Harry.”

“Alright … Louis.”

And at that moment, my lonely life fell apart.

**THE END**


End file.
